


the man that was screaming at the moon.

by Laeana



Series: a story whispered at twilight [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Falling In Love, Fights, First Meetings, Getting Back Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Alteration, Strangers to Lovers, True Love, Vampire Bites, Werewolves (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: It was really stupid.The meeting of a second.(was it their first?)
Relationships: Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg (Implied), Valtteri Bottas/Nico Rosberg
Series: a story whispered at twilight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082960
Kudos: 8





	the man that was screaming at the moon.

It's just-

Just a feeling. In his chest. That never completely fades away. It's disturbing but it's not much or at least he thinks it is. It often takes just a little for everything to change, for everything to move towards a profound change without return.

Valtteri led his life. His studies in engineering. He is quite satisfied. He is entering his last year, a little further and he will be done. He will be able to have the taste of real life in his hands. Work. He doesn't know if he's that enthusiastic about discovering this world, but why not. It’s simply the course of a lifetime.

It was really stupid.

The meeting of a second.

He picked up his tray like almost every noon, talking absently with Daniil, another student in his field, of hockey when he looked up. A gasp had almost escaped him when he met two clear blue eyes.

A man was standing there, right in front of them, looking almost unreal. Looking at him, he knew he was seeing him for the first time and yet he felt like he had known him for ages. These foreign, wandering thoughts that flowed into his mind disturbed him to the utmost.

He had barely turned his head that the stranger had disappeared and he had simply shrugged his shoulders, thinking it was just an impression. Without really being able to erase the memory of that glance from his mind.

* * *

Valtteri spent the afternoon arguing with one of his friends, Kimi, for reasons he can't quite remember by now. It must have been something to do with an event but his head hurts so much that when he hangs up abruptly, with the very strong urge to scream, he couldn't care less.

He drops down on his bed, tired. Too many things at once. He brings his knees to his chest, thoughtful. He's never been very expressive, calmer, more composed, and maybe that's really his problem. He doesn’t know.

His eyes close almost without his consent.

And when he opens them again, it's full dark behind. He hasn't closed his shutters and is still in his clothes from yesterday. His phone shows him three in the morning. He grimaces. He needs air.

Barefoot, he descends the stairs of his house and unlocks the door of his conservatory to exit into the small courtyard. Before it was a larger space but the expansion works have considerably reduced the possibilities. 

The cold wind slips over his skin and he almost shivers, but he feels better. His mind clear of all stray thoughts. He breathes a little more, lingering against the bay window, on which his vague reflection appears, following the movements of the moon shining above him.

Then, a noise.

Which comes to disturb the silence and the calm which inhabited these places until then. Steps ? He couldn't say too much. He walks towards the slit just between the fence and the door that opens onto the street to see a silhouette. Someone advancing, ever closer to him. His heart is pounding harder at his temples, as if about to explode and he doesn't even know why. His instinct cries out for danger. 

In his pocket are the keys to his door. Despite all these signals, the fact that his reason tells him not to open up to strangers, something pushes him to do it. An idea, a feeling, something.

Behind the door, because the stranger was coming towards him and him alone, is a man and he would swear it's the same one he saw in the cafeteria days before. Blond hair, bewitching blue eyes. Yes it's him. 

A shiver runs through him, but it's not because he's cold, far from it. A strange heat seems to have taken hold of him now, he can't really explain what it is.

“Hello.” he moves forward by speaking first, still standing in the doorway as the other man stops a few paces away.

“Val …” 

He blinks. It was hardly a whisper, he might have missed it if he wasn't focused on the stranger's mouth.

“Do we know each other …?”

And there, then, his interlocutor smiles sadly, almost annoyed, miserable, and although this mimicry is magnificent, to see such pain in it hurts him in turn.

“I do. You don’t.”

* * *

It turns out that the other man always comes back to the same place, never daring to come any closer. Remaining a few yards from him, when Valtteri opens the door. A week went by in the same way and an uncertainty coupled with impatience began to grow in him.

It’s barely 9 p.m. when he goes to the terrace and it's terrible, he can still hear laughter coming from the house, they have just finished eating. He pretended to want to isolate himself a little and having been the calmest child in the family for all time, no one questioned him.

He opens the door again and sits down on the step. The site of their house is slightly higher than the street on this side. He thus has plenty of time to get more comfortable, with shoes on this time, and to contemplate the sky, most of the stars of which are hidden because of the fact that he is in town.

He doesn't have to wait long for his stranger to simply come back, always standing in the same place. He details his face, tries to remember its contours, they haven't exchanged many more words since the first time.

“Can I get your name ?”

He doesn't get answers. He shakes his head, disappointed. Then silence sets in and that's what makes up most of their moments. Silence. It's like a kind of paradise, a haven, a peace that he cannot find anywhere else. Time flies by, although he does nothing except observe the person in front of him. So much so that he could draw his features with his eyes closed.

At several meetings, he brings his sketchbook with him and draws vague sketches, drawings, shapes. An obsession maybe. He doesn't know him. He doesn’t know this man who seems to know him so much. It's strange, he wonders how that is possible.

No answer is given to him. He is content to continue to observe him, a few steps apart. Without ever approaching or touching.

He ended up nicknamed him the man that was screaming at the moon.

Because although he was silent, his eyes were often so expressive upon seeing him, that they seemed to cry out his dismay and pain. His mouth remained closed like that, but his mind continued to make its way, to tell stories.

Stories he would love to hear one day.

* * *

They got lost in a bar in town. Valtteri has had one too many drinks, he knows that. Daniil is a few steps away from him, he gave a concert that evening. Further on, there are also Pierre and Max, who invited themselves to this evening. He has nothing against it, the more the merrier, apparently.

He is dancing and he would probably be embarrassed if he still had a chance to care. His inhibitions dissipated, he just feels good. Like very good. A feeling of lightness, in the middle of the crowd, of all these hot bodies. Someone sticks to him and he falls on an intense brown gaze. 

Hands roaming his body and his hazy brain only reacts by moving closer to the stranger. Flirtatious smile.

Until his arm is pulled back. He meets a firm chest and has to blink twice to stabilize his blurry eyesight and he is surprised to find his stranger, in the flesh.

He is dragged along without really having time to understand what is going on.

“I have to get this guy home, so I'm going to go.”

Are these his friends ? His stranger has friends and a life outside of him apparently. Oh. He would almost feel disappointed. His emotions parade in a palette, although he is conscious.

“Ok, see you, Nico !”

The surprise. Then a small smile floats on his lips, delighted. They are outside faster than he would have thought and Nico, _Nico_ , turns to him, a little worried, to look at him.

“So your name is Nico ? Nico, Nico …”

“You weren't supposed to find out. Or being in that bar, you could have … whatever.”

Valtteri rearranges the grip that Nico has on his wrist, to hold his hand. His hand is cold. Much cooler than normal, he slides his thumb along his palm, tracing absently a pattern.

“Why didn't you want to approach me, touch me, and yet you’re doing it tonight ?”

“It's not the same, I …” Nico pinches the bridge of his nose “I'm not reasonable, damn it. Why is it always complicated when it comes to you ?”

An impulse. When he sees the other so distraught, upset, he steps forward slightly, raising his face to kiss his interlocutor. The angle is not the best, a difference of only a few centimeters, but it’s enough to create a gap between them.

Nico pushes him away very quickly, out of breath, and begins to pace. The street is deserted and maybe it is better that way. He frowns, the cold outside tends to calm him down, he's sobered up a bit. 

“No no no. You can't do this, Val. You can’t. Not like that …”

“Why do you keep calling me Val ? Why are you acting … like we know each other ?”

It has the knack of freezing the other man dead in place, who shakes his head slowly, seeming to be on the verge of crisis, perhaps in tears. The moon has funny reflections on them, on his eyes.

“I am a creature of the twilight. I am a vampire. So run away from this world that isn't yours, please, Val.”

And he doesn't know why he fully believes it when he hears these words. Not a single ounce of doubt crept into him. 

He steps forward again, he doesn't know why he feels so calm, the silence might prove to be disturbing, such a statement more, but he stands there, so comfortable in this place that should be foreign to him. He puts a hand on Nico's cheek and, yes, his skin is still cold here.

“Did I know you ? How did I keep no memory of it ?”

Nico shakes his head again and makes a gesture that surprises him, he embraces him, hugging him tightly, in an almost desperate gesture.

The next second he's already gone.

* * *

Weeks go by without anything changing. It almost devours him from the inside. Valtteri knows how to keep his torments to himself. He knows how to distance himself from things that happen to him and if this lack that he has deep down is never completely filled, he can at least keep his mind off things.

He comes back to sit every evening on the step leading to the entrance of his house, to wait and wait again. He waits for a visit, he waits for those moments they once shared to return. He waits for that peace that ran through him when they stood facing each other.

He wonders if this evening ruined everything, if nothing would ever be the same again, if he would end up forgetting this appearance as he seemed to have kept no memory of Nico.

His sketchbook clutched to his chest, he wonders what to do with these stories to tell. He goes through the pages, so as not to forget, traces with his fingertips the pencil strokes, the precise lines he has been able to draw. He wants to remember him, he really wants to remember him.

There was so much more behind the blue irises in front of him, so much, so much more. He may have lost his only chance to know his own story, maybe their story. His lips looked familiar to him, he's sure he had tasted them before, that he had that once.

Several times. Nights, days. He doesn’t seem to have anything to mention this time which could be a delirium of his sick mind, a feverish dream that the starry sky would have made him imagine. 

He doesn't believe it.

He sits down and waits and wonders how to find a clear solution to his situation. He wonders if he should ask for help, if there would be someone who would be willing to listen to him without taking him for a fool.

Without realizing it, he seems to have become the man that was screaming at the moon, in his turn.

* * *

The wait is almost lasting a month. Daniil decides to produce himself again in the same bar and maybe, maybe Valtteri has his solution there. He lets himself be carried away by the crowd movement once again. Hope to see him again one more time. Clear up the whole situation.

But nothing.

In a foul mood, he finds himself engaged in a fight that he didn’t start. He's in a nasty alley behind the bar and dodges attacks, he doesn't like what he sees. Three men are on the ground, his opponent is moving a little too fast for his liking. Supernatural. A shiver runs through him, because he knows this feeling. He didn’t fall on Nico but on one of his compatriots, apparently.

This is not good news and he begins to realize that it would be better to flee. He is pressed against a wall and squirms to try to free himself. The vampire in front of him smirks, a cold smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, before leaning down to his neck. 

Of all the possible and imaginable possibilities, he had forgotten that being a meal was on the list. A slow, suffocating fear rises up his chest but he can’t let it paralyze him. The grip is strong on his trachea and his stomach. He has trouble finding his air.

Is he going to die right now ?

* * *

When Valtteri wakes up, he is on a couch that is not his, in a living room he doesn’t know and hesitates to panic. The light filtering through the bay window is soft, perhaps the middle of the day ? Midday ? 

He has the reflex to come and put a hand around his neck and is relieved to find nothing there. Not the slightest trace, not the slightest bite, nothing. The skin is smooth. Whatever happened last night, it didn't end by a meal. As for knowing the course of events ...

A door that opens attracts his attention. He sits up and turns to what he assumes is the entrance. Nico is there, taking off his shoes, a shopping bag in his hand, which he drops when he sees him.

“Are you … is your head okay ?”

“What am I doing here ?”

Nico sighs, he seemed sad when they were apart, but every time they get to meet he doesn't seem satisfied either.

“Are you looking so much for death, Val ? Why … why do I always find you so close to …”

“To what ?”

“It's like you're begging for my help. But I don't want to, can't live that again.” 

“What are you talking about ?”

He got up in the meantime, walked up to Nico to cup his face in his hands. The vampire looks at him, almost pleading, and their lips land on each other. Impossible to know who made the first step but they are just as desperate, one as much as the other. As if they needed that contact, as if they couldn't live without it.

Hands that slip under his t-shirt, he shivers at their freshness, but it doesn't really bother him. It's rushed, almost in the act, certainly not the best decision he's ever made. Yeah, not the best. But his body seems to be hanging on to everything it can have, memories it doesn't even have.

Nico's mouth is on his neck even before he has time to do anything. He can only cling to his back, desperately as he sucks on his skin in several places. He knows he will have a trail of marks but that's not what holds his attention because suddenly-

Suddenly Nico bites him.

A violent spasm runs through him at this contact, he doesn’t even understand. Everything around him blurs, as if he was high on alcohol or drugs, but it's more some pleasure that flows through. Heat in the back of his stomach. Which makes everything a little less clear and which makes him sink more.

* * *

When Valtteri wakes up, Nico is by his side and seems to be sleeping. His body is painful in several places but the memory comes back to him. The fact that he got bitten. He touches his neck where he feels a small irregularity, but the wound has already closed. The moments that follow are a bit hazy, but he clearly remembers that they slept together.

Their hands are tied, his lover has an arm around his waist, as if to make sure he's not going anywhere, never ever again. He has a clear thrill. They were separated but for how long ? He lived a fairly short life. He's twenty-four. What was their first meeting ? When was their first meeting ?

His free hand continues to move back and forth over what's left of his skin. He rubs the place until he finds a slight pain. Nothing that is unfamiliar to him. Each time, he knows he has already lived the moment, even if he has no memory of it. 

He stands up, wrapping a sheet that has fallen to the ground around him, to slightly camouflage his nakedness. They appear to be on the top floor of a building. He approaches the balcony that borders the bedroom. His hand against the glass door, he observes the horizon at night, and a shiver runs through him. He knows this view. A blurred image appears before his eyes. He opens the door and goes outside.

The wind is a little cool, leaning over he can count at least seven stories below. The moon is lightly covered, almost hazy. He stretches his hand towards it, not really knowing why. He really feels like it’s close to him, that he could grab it in his palm. The emptiness in front doesn’t scare him, almost welcoming. He moves a little further forward, on the verge of falling. Adrenaline, heart pounding, his eyelashes flutter and-

His vision blurs again. Always more. 

Flashes before his eyes, almost convulsive. He sees … he sees … are those memories missing ? A strong emotion that rises to his chest.

* * *

He's running. Forest all around him. A scream that freezes his blood. A werewolf ? Is that a werewolf ? Why not, he guesses, he met and slept with a vampire after all. Why would this be the only fantastic creature in existence ? His mind is foggy. He feels like he has run for miles.

Valtteri stumbles. It’s there that he notices that his right arm is cut quite severely. Blood is flowing to his palm, it doesn't hurt, he doesn't feel pain because he's busy worrying about his flee. He breaths shakily, gets up, though his legs seem to want to give way under him and start again his run.

What is he doing ? What is he supposed to do ? Where's Nico ? The howls get closer and closer. Why has he become a target ? 

He trips over a tree trunk and hurtles down a slope. He is disoriented, dehydrated and tired. He tries to breathe, a wave of anguish overwhelms him. He didn't have time to do anything, to think of nothing. He crawls up to a tree to lean against it, he no longer believes he can escape it. He can’t run anymore.

“Nico …” he moans softly.

Nico … Nico is not coming. An image scrolls before his eyes. Another vampire with dark skin and a vengeful smile, who pinned his lover to the ground. Nico who was screaming at him to flee as the fight continued and he already saw stigmatas accumulating on his skin. He then had turned around, a sob tearing at the back of his throat.

And he started to run.

A spasm runs through him. He finally realizes the cold around. How cold is this forest at night. It was a bad idea, it was a terrible idea. The twilight world wasn’t his and never had been. He knew it however, he knew it, but he had dared to forget it. Being with Nico had made everything more magical … 

A growl and in front of him appears a creature with a black fur. He almost has trouble seeing it, but its irises are piercing. Is this how it all ends for him ? He struggles to find anything to fight with and has no weapons. With his bare hands against a wolf, he would almost laugh incredulously. 

A paw that lands on his chest, claws digging into his flesh, keeping him to the ground. His gaze fixed on that of the wolf, he doesn’t flinch. He prefers to face death in the face, straight. He would rather see it come upon him and drape him in its mortal embrace rather than bathe in a darkness that would become permanent. He wants to be able to look at the day, the trees, the nature, everything he can contemplate, before his breath leaves him.

Almost a flash.

The wolf over him is thrown against a tree where it lands with a sound of broken bones. And for a moment, it's Nico who is above him, taking his face in his hands.

“I am sorry my love. I'm so sorry it's all my fault. Everything is my fault.”

Still in shock, he can't seem to cry or say anything. He can’t do anything. Struggling to realize. His breathing is still chaotic. An icy embrace closes around him, not that of death, but perhaps much worse.

* * *

“Nico … I don't know if I can continue to do that.”

“I know, I'm sorry, I will find a solution, I …”

Valtteri shakes his head, observes the city which continues to stir, at their feet. He knows very well that his love can do nothing about it, but there is no point in looking for solutions. Nico's hand is in his, his arm bandaged between them, a constant reminder of what happened several days ago.

“If this all happened to you, it's my fault. I should have acted against Lewis earlier. This whole story … it was a bad idea from the start. I should never have turned him.”

He has a question deep in his throat. He can't help but wonder if Nico doesn't want him, even now, still. Sure, they have their romance today. But how is he different from Lewis ? For having seen him only a little, he can nevertheless draw a portrait of this man in love and the stormy relationship that followed.

“I have to protect you, I have to keep you safe from what he wants to do to you …”

“What do you like about me then ? My fragility ? The fact that I can die, so obviously you won't have to stay with me forever ? I don't understand Nico.”

“No ! No, no, of course not, I … I made a mistake with Lewis, but you had nothing to do with him. I love you, Val, you don't have to doubt it, I … please.”

Nico cups his face with his hands, looking desperate. A sad sigh passes his lips. They were happy, really. But doubts and misfortunes never hide very far from the surface. And that’s how life is.

“It's too much. I don't wanna lose you, I can't stand to lose you. I've almost done it twice already … I've made up my mind.”

He looks up when he hears it. He has never seen the older one so miserable and a bad feeling looms in the back of his stomach.

“Nico …”

The two hands of the vampire rest on his cheeks, gently. That's it. Nico was never abrupt when it came to him, always acting with infinite tenderness, as if he was the most precious thing he had seen.

“Forgive me for what I'm going to do. We're going to be separated but your life … your life is probably better without me.”

“What are you talking about ?” he widens his eyes, fearful “Nico … Nico please, whatever you're about to do, don't do it. Nico …”

The blue irises in front of him take on a darker shade, until they turn crimson. He can't look away, he's frozen in place.

“You will forget everything about this year with me. All of me. Every memory, every moment spent together, you have to forget them. I have never existed, I have never been there. When you wake up you will be back to your normal life.”

The last thing he can see before he sinks is a tear rolling down his partner’s cheek.

* * *

“Valtteri !”

Two arms bring him back, towards the bedroom, and he coughs, breathless, still struck by the intensity of what he has just relived. Nico leans over him, looking terrified. That thing is also true. He realizes it. Nico never seemed to be afraid of anything, except when it concerned him.

Without holding them back, tears overflow from his eyes and follow their way down his face. It hurts, it hurts so much. He could almost suffocate. The pain in his heart …

“Why did you do that, Nico ? You promised me we'd get out of this together. How could you erase my memory ?”

“I … I couldn't protect you anymore, I …”

Valtteri jumps to his feet, rubbing his eyes frantically to shake off tears he doesn't need. That he doesn’t want.

“It's been four years …” he whispers, his voice barely audible “Four years since you left me. Why come back ?”

Nico gets up in turn and walks towards him, begging, seeming to need to touch him, to feel him close to him above all. He assumes this is normal, he himself finds it difficult to stay away. Too much time.

“It was a mistake. You shouldn't have seen me but I-”

He just puts his lips to those of the man facing him. Nico melts into contact, tired of fighting against his feelings. He knows it.

“I missed you so much, Nico … I didn't know it but my soul was crying for you. There was such a void that I didn't know how to fill it. I hate you for doing this.”

The words escape him so freely. He would have almost blushed, he would have denied these words. There is no more room for such hesitation, not after so long.

“I know. I am sorry my love.”

He lets his companion take him in his arms. He doesn't know how long they stay in that same position before he gives in to fatigue. But, how strange, he almost feels he can breathe properly for the first time in a long time.

* * *

Nico comes back to see him in the evenings. Valtteri brings him into the courtyard of his house and they spend time together. He manages to handle his family, sometimes slipping out later, to make sure he doesn't miss a single moment.

The moon seems to be watching them, from the top of its perch.

Sometimes they talk until he falls asleep and he wakes up in his room, sometimes they don't say anything, just embracing each other, enjoying the moment. Of all those missed moments.

He begins to think about moving, because he had stayed in this house because it was the easiest for his studies, but he knows that he could live with Nico, if he asked him to. He sees it in his eyes.

It's crazy, his days seem to have found a whole new shine. He smiles, he is happy. He's happy …

If things could stay that way a little longer …

* * *

His plans are dashed pretty quickly. Not for lack of will, not because Nico is opposed to it, on the contrary, but because of vagaries. With a reminder that they can't always keep the past behind them.

Valtteri is on the floor of the house he had chosen with Nico. The cold tiles against his cheek. His sight is cloudy, he is losing blood. Through the veranda window he can see the dark sky, still not the stars though.

“Stop it.”

Authoritarian. Nico's voice slams like a whip, Lewis turns to look at him, an amused smile on the edge of his lips.

“Or what ? We have already started this fight more than once, it didn't work. I'm still standing in front of you and you are standing in front of me. I thought I could avoid the repetition of such a scene.”

“But you always come back to me, apparently.” Nico answers, bitterly.

“You ruined my life.” Lewis spits, venom noticeable in his voice “Do you think I'm going to let you live in peace ? You decided that you didn't want me anymore, that you didn't need me anymore … you left me behind ! You gave up on me while it was you who made me what I am !”

He leans weakly against the wall to succeed in standing up. An unpleasant hissing sound every time he breathes. He's got broken bones, he's sure. The pain is barely bearable, he feels he could sink at any moment. He's fighting, because there's no way he can't see …

“Leave Valtteri out of it all.” Nico continues, imploring, and he can almost see the cogs working in his head. “Leave him out of this and I'll come with you.”

“Nico !” he cries out and regrets it almost immediately, continuing with a coughing fit.

It wouldn’t be a goodbye, from what Nico's gaze tells him, from the promise he offers him, which lands on him again. But how much longer would he have to wait before they met again ? How many years ? 

“Okay. I accept that.”

“You don’t have-” _the right to do that!_ he would like to say but he cuts himself off, suppressing a moan of pain.

He slides along the wall, all his efforts to stand up already in vain. It's unfair, it's so unfair. He would almost hate being a mere human, would hate his helplessness in the face of everything that was going on in front of him.

That's right, he's never been a part of this world. At most, he can only be a spectator.

“Goodbye, Val.” and Nico gently kisses his cheek, a gesture far too ephemeral that he would like to prolong as a dozen memories pass before his eyes, before getting up and following Lewis, without looking back.

Heart tight, vision blurred, because he can't seem to bear to see him go, a promise still echoing in his head and a bit of their idyll at the corner of his mouth ... Valtteri remains seated, close to a future life which never had time to begin.

The moon continues to shine above him, cold and pale, never really changing, like a warning.

**Author's Note:**

> don't know what to say. First time writing about them and that's it, that's how I close 2020. This will be my last story before the end of this year, lads, and i'm going into an unknown land ... a pairing I read a lot about but never found quite the courage of writing about.  
> we can thanks a weird dream of mine and the lovely people of my gc to have motivated me ... thanks a lot <3
> 
> Hope you'll spend a good New Year Eve and that your days will be brighter in this new year. Thanks for having read, it may have other parts honestly ... why not start a supernatural AU ?
> 
> tumblr : laeana


End file.
